


Home

by Dracareesi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood and Gore, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hunting Humans, Pain, Physical Abuse, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Ramsay is his own warning, Revenge, Sexual Abuse, Torture, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracareesi/pseuds/Dracareesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Reek have escaped and left Myranda's corpse in their wake. Ramsay is furious and decides to do what he does best, hunt them. But Ramsay isn't the only one with revenge on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

Ramsay rode into Winterfell victorious. The Bolton men cheered and Ramsay's face lit up with the sick joy of a madman. He met his father's eyes without hesitation, he was convinced he would find pride in them, and he did. Roose didn't smile or show any form of conventional affection towards his son but he did not ask the men to quiet down, which was a reward in itself. He gave Ramsay a hint of a nod and walked back into the castle and left his bastard to bask in glory. After all, Ramsay wouldn't be too pleased when he found out what had become of his wife and his....creature. Roose was more interested to see how he would react to the death of the whore. She wasn't really a whore, Roose would never allow that, but a kennelmaster's daughter spoiled before marriage was the closest thing to a whore he would permit in his castle. He had never bothered to learn anything about his son except what he needed to control him, so Roose left a hair's width of a possibility for heartbreak. Ramsay had shown a sentimental side on being legitimized, maybe he had learnt to love this girl, in which case Sansa Stark was in a lot trouble. No, Bolton, her name is Sansa Bolton, and she was soon to be hunted down by her husband. But Roose would have to give his son specific instructions, he couldn't afford for her to die before she gave him a grandson. 

 

 

Ramsay thrust deep into the skinny little creature and grunted loudly to drown out the sound of her screaming in pain and fear. He usually liked screams of fear, but it seemed to put him off at the moment. The girl had chestnut brown hair and pale skin. She was lanky but her teats were plump and firm. He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her by the hair with his other hand, she cried even louder, which confused him, he wanted her to enjoy the pain. In a renewed effort to elicit moans and whimpers he bit down on her neck. The girl began shaking and fighting and begging to be let go. The pleas frustrated him even further and within a fraction of a moment Ramsay saw red. He picked the girl up by her hair and beat her to within and inch of her life. When he had exhausted himself he grinned down on the girl.  
"Let you go?" he said breathless. "You're mine Myranda. I'm not going to let you go." The girl mumbled something through the blood and teeth that filled her mouth. This angered Ramsay even more and he gave her a sharp kick to her stomach. She cried out again and wrapped her arms around herself.  
"I'm not Myranda!!", she screamed with all the strength left in her body. Then she sobbed and sobbed as she saw his eyes fill with their familiar madness.  
"No. You're not." he said. Ramsay got on his knees beside the girl and took her head onto his lap. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed.  
"Myranda would not have bored me.", he said as he watched the life leave her eyes.

 

 

There was nearly six inches of snow on the ground announcing the arrival of winter, now that the Starks weren't around to do it. The air stank of war and death but that didn't bother Ramsay, he was winning the war and he had caused the death. The barking of his hounds filled the night. Damon had been worried that it would warn Sansa and Reek of their coming, but Ramsay wanted them to know. Some boars and deer had been too quick but Ramsay and his girls had never let human prey escape. They were always easier to catch because they never truly accepted that they were prey, there was always a part of them that told them to fight, and that part was always stronger than the one telling them to run, to hide, to flee. Sansa Stark was the daughter of Lords and Kings, no, she would not flee. 

He would find them and punish them. Ramsay thought of his wife, tall and graceful, her beautiful auburn hair, her pretty little face. He would punish her first, he would make Reek watch. He imagined the line her would draw across the top of her forehead, then down behind her ears till the nape of her neck. It would be a nice clean line with his best knife and he would remove her scalp very neatly, very gracefully, to match her air. She would be a different sort of redhead then. Any Theon left inside his Reek would disappear and then he would torment his little puppy like he never had before. Ramsay saw a good few days of entertainment ahead of him, he thought of it as a reward for winning the battle. 

 

 

The gates of Winterfell were thrown open just in time for Lord Ramsay and his men to ride through. It had been five days since the party had gone in search of Sansa Stark and it was evident that they had come back with nothing. The number of beasts and men that returned seemed to be less that of those who had left. Ramsay was livid. He got off his horse and handed the reins to a stableboy who was a moment too late in jumping forward and taking them. Ramsay grabbed the boy by the throat and pushed him to the ground. As the whole castle stood silently horrified, he tore up the boy's back with his horsewhip before stepping on him and making his way inside. Ramsay stormed up to his chambers, nearly losing his mental faculties to anger and humiliation. Wine had been laid out on his table, the kitchen staff were aware Ramsay liked to drink after a hunt. This time it only reminded him of his failure but he recalled from some old maester's lessons that wine calmed the nerves, so he poured himself some of it, only to throw the goblet at the farthest wall and spill wine everywhere.

Eventually he calmed down enough to head down to his father's chambers and inform him of the failure of the hunt. Roose, as always, was cruel and cold.

 "I will head out tomorrow with my men", he said, his manner suggesting that his son's incompetence had been expected. Thus curtly dismissed, Ramsay went back to his chambers and this time he drank the wine without hesitation. One big gulp and then another. His head started to feel heavy, and colors danced before his eyes, a sudden flash of panic and then his head hit the floor. 

 

 

The crypts of Winterfell had never been Sansa's favorite place in the castle. They were dark and damp and filled with the aura of death. The majestic faces of the Starks who had come and gone before her stared down at them with cold eyes. But the crypts were the closest thing to family that she had. The rest of Winterfell had been painted in Bolton depravity. Stark loyalists were burnt and flayed, her brother's betrayers walked his castle and killed his people with impunity. But the crypts were still pure. That and the Godswood, but the open arms of the weirwood would not hide her from her bloodthirsty husband. So Sansa hid among the tombs of her elders with the creature who had once been Theon Greyjoy. He had told her of how her brothers had done the same to hide from him, and when Sansa went into a panic over that he fervently promised her that he had never revealed that detail to Ramsay, although Sansa suspected Reek did not remember all that he had revealed to Ramsay in the throes of pain.

After jumping off the walls of Winterfell the pair had run to the village to steal clothing, then by night as they heard Ramsay's men returning from the battle, they ran deep into the woods and dumped their old clothes there to fool the sharp noses of Ramsay's hounds when they inevitably came hunting. After that they had sneaked their way back into the castle and into the crypts and stayed there since. They would hold their breaths and wait, without food or drink and every night, at the hour of the wolf, Sansa passed unseen through the secret passageways of her once home, to reignite the candle at the top of the broken tower. It was relatively easier to do so now that Ramsay and most of the men had gone in search of her, but after three days and three nights, Sansa began to lose hope that her savior would ever come. 

But she still went on the fourth night, past the guards asleep at the gates, her footsteps silenced by the snow. The night air was heavy and the wind started to tug at her clothes as she climbed higher up the tower. Tired and breathless she stumbled into the tower room and as soon as she was inside a hand clamped over her mouth. For one mad moment she considered flinging herself through the window, since death would be a better fate that being recaptured by Ramsay Bolton. But as that moment passed she began to register things. She heard a voice whispering soothing words in her ear, it was a woman, the hand over her mouth was far too large to be Ramsay's, and there was one other person there. The hand slowly released her and Sansa ran to the opposite end of the room putting both the strangers in front of her. "Lady Sansa, we're not here to harm you." It was the woman, the large man-like woman they had met at the tavern. The one who had sworn to protect her, made an oath to her mother. "I am Brienne of Tarth. I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn that I would protect you." "The old lady said I had friends in the North. Did you send her?", Sansa's voice shook as she spoke but she blamed that on the cold. "I did my lady. And I saw your candle. I have come to rescue you. Now, we must leave this place quickly Sansa. We do not have much time." "I don't want to be rescued.", Sansa said resolutely. "But there is something else you can help me do." 

 

 

Podrick did not like the job of a kitchen boy, the work was hard and it was not as thrilling as being a squire, which is why he was glad to hear that Ramsay's search party was on it's way back. He had walked into the kitchen yesterday and started working as if he had been there all along, and nobody had asked questions. Feigning some reason, he had also managed to sneak into the maester's chambers and procure the sleeping potion Lady Brienne had told him about. And as soon as Ramsay's return was announced at the kitchen he had jumped up to take the burden of delivering the wine to his chambers. It was not a duty they handed out to people they didn't trust so it had taken him a little effort, but after a bit of sweet-talking the cook let him have it. After that, all Pod had to do was hide and wait. The latter was easy as he was well trained in patience, and the former was made easy by Ramsay's enormous featherbed.

 

 

Ramsay woke up unable to remember why he had fallen asleep. For one moment he stared at the darkness, the next he remembered his wife, the hunt, the empty-handed return. Then he took in his surroundings, first realizing that it was dark because he was blindfolded and his hands were tied together. The next moment a horrible pain burst through his legs, it radiated upwards and down from his knees. The pain made him fully conscious in a heartbeat and he opened his mouth to scream. But he had barely made a noise before he was gagged with a piece of cloth. The cloth tasted revolting and it stank of blood, the one thing Ramsay could recognize anywhere.  
His blindfold was unceremoniously removed and for a brief moment it seemed like he was looking right at the sun, but as his eyes got used to it he saw that the place was actually quite dark. The only light was from two candles, one almost a stub and one that had been newly lit. He was lying on a large cold stone with the statue of a grim man near his head, and in front of him were four people. Two of them he recognized, his wife, Reek. There was also a tall, beastly woman and a man next to her who looked like a greenboy. Sansa was looking at him, not just with anger but disdain, there was an air of power in her stance that enraged Ramsay, he was going to teach his stupid wife her place. Ramsay tried to push himself up on his feet but his knees screamed in protest and he fell back down.

"Both your legs have been broken at the knees," Sansa said, her ice cold voice did not betray the intensity of emotion in her eyes. "It is futile for you to try to stand let alone attack us." Ramsay growled at her with impotent rage, unable to speak because of the gag and the pain. "You have wronged my family greatly Lord Ramsay." she made a mocking emphasis on the word Lord. "Your father was my brother's bannerman and he betrayed his king." As she uttered these words Reek gave out a little whimper and Sansa silenced him with a single look. "He killed my brother, my mother and my unborn nephew. You helped him capture Winterfell despite being aware of his treachery." She listed out all the different acts of treason he had committed without ever mentioning his treatment of her. "As I said, you have wronged House Stark greatly, my lord. And as the only remaining member of House Stark, and Queen of the North, it falls upon me to serve you with the justice of the Old Gods. I hereby sentence you to death." Sansa moved quietly away into the darkness but he could see her figure just beyond the reach of the light. 

Reek moved towards him hesitantly. As he came closer Ramsay saw something in his hand, something small. For the first time in his life Ramsay felt fear, a crippling dread. He tried to intimidate Reek with muffled shouts and threats. He tried to show anger, he tried to bring his pet to heel but fear was all that shone in his eyes. Reek was gone. Theon Greyjoy stood at his side with his flaying knife in hand. The Bastard of Bolton spent his last breath pleading.

 

 

Roose Bolton had never loved his son in the way other fathers did, he didn't think himself capable of it. But Ramsay had been his only boy after Domeric had died, and he was proud of what his bastard had achieved despite his ham-fisted methods. Looking at him now, Roose wondered if his son would have ended up this way had he taken a more conventional approach to parenthood. Ramsay stared back at him as he pondered over the thought, he had no choice, Sansa had cut off his eyelids. He had been flayed from the neck down but the rest of his face was intact, except for the message. The bastard hung at the castle gate like so many of his victims had. The scullery maid had found him and the guards, who lay in the snow with their throats slit. Roose gave his son one last long look, taking in the threat carved across his forehead. 'THIS IS MY HOME'

**Author's Note:**

> I just really needed to give Sansa a win, the poor girl suffered so much this season. Let me know what you think :)


End file.
